


The CORE of the Matter

by Spingtail



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gaster Papyrus (Undertale), Papyrus is Gaster, Papyrus is a nerd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spingtail/pseuds/Spingtail
Summary: Sure, his full name was Papyrus W.D. Gaster.But if anyone called him that, they would get a laser cannon to the face.





	1. Biggest Project Yet

Sure, his full name was Papyrus W.D. Gaster.

 

But if anyone called him that, they would get a laser cannon to the face.

 

He was a strange teen, always taking things apart and staring at them to see how they worked. Most 15-year-olds would be outside, loitering around the mall or the librarby, sometimes even egging some poor victim’s house.

 

Not him, though.

 

He was better than them.

 

He was going to change the world.

 

As he sat on the floor of the shed, sketching blueprints for his latest invention, he thought of what he would do when he became rich and famous.

First, he would design some sort of broadcasting system to tell all the kids who had teased and bullied him over the years _just_ how much better off he was, and how they had amounted to utter garbage compared to him. Then, he would get a _really_ hot boyfriend, just to rub it in.

He gently chewed on the edge of his pencil, relishing the idea of it. They’d all be so _ashamed._ Some would probably even ask for his autograph, and be devastated when he said no. He’d make sure to remind them of all the things they put him through. They would feel awful, and he would laugh in their faces as they were brought to tears.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

 

“Come in,” he said, not bothering to look up from his work. If he weren’t a genius, he’d be embarrassed at the state of his makeshift lab. Instead, the papers strewn about only proved that his mind moved too fast with amazing ideas that he couldn’t keep up with it. Perhaps the real term for it was ‘Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder,’ but ‘genius’ sounded better.

Nonetheless, his brother shambled in, having to gently kick papers out of the way in order to form a path to walk on.

“Heya Paps-- I mean _Dings,”_ Sans stammered, quickly correcting himself after Dings silently held up a freeze ray, “I, uh, brought you some food, since you’ve kinda been in here all day.”

Dings paused. He thought he had only been in the shed for an hour? When he looked at the clock, though, it showed that he had been working on his project for about 6 hours straight. Considering the progress he had made, he wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. This _was_ his biggest project yet, after all.

Finally, he realized he was _starving._ He had skipped breakfast, as well as lunch, and hadn’t eaten so much as a grape since his dinner the night prior. When he looked at the bowl in his brother’s hand, he couldn’t help but grin. It was oatmeal, the kind with dinosaur eggs. His favorite food, of course.

“What’cha working on?” His brother asked, gesturing to the blueprints he had been scribbling on. “It must be pretty important if you had to skip school for it.”

Dings nodded through a mouthful of oatmeal, choosing not to acknowledge his reasoning for skipping school. He was too smart for that place, anyway. There was a reason he was the only 15-year-old junior in highschool, even if the other kids were despicable. This was the fifth time he’d skipped in two months.

“It’s a big one,” he replied after finally finishing off his meal. “This project alone is gonna change _everything_ we know. This is the one that’s gonna make everyone love me.”

“You seem pretty confident,” Sans stated, looking slightly uneased. “You, uh, _know_ you don’t _need_ people to like you, right? Peer approval isn’t all that important.”

“You can say that because all of _your_ peers approve of everything _you_ do.”

“Aw c’mon, you know that isn’t true.”

Dings frowned. Did Sans really not see it? He was one of the most popular monsters in the stupid school. Even _freshmen_ knew who he was.

“...Whatever’s true or not,” he dismissed, ignoring the urge to use his freeze ray, “I don’t want _peer approval._ I _want_ people to look at me and think about how much better I am than they are. I want them to be jealous of me when I’m rich and famous while they don’t have anything to be proud of except for a useless degree that they paid far too much to get.”

His brother stared at him for a moment.

“Well, uh…” He hesitated, scratching his skull a little bit, “That’s one hell of a goal, kid. You sure you don’t wanna, like, _help_ people instead? I’m sure you could whip something up that would benefit a lot of people.”

“Don’t call me ‘kid,’ Sans,” Dings muttered. “And besides, what I’m working on _will_ help people. You just don’t know _how_ yet.”

“Can you tell me?”

“No. Now let me keep working on it, please.”

Sighing, Sans shuffled back out of the shed. Dings noticed he still had the empty bowl in his hands, so he put it in a stack of other bowls. He’d take them back to the house eventually. That’s what he always told himself, anyway.

He turned back to his project.

 

It was time to think of a name for it, he decided.

 

Immediately, there was something that came to mind.

 

The CORE.

  
It was _brilliant._

 


	2. Doctor

Oh, he showed  _ them,  _ alright.

 

At 18 years old, Dings was already waiting to be called down by King Asgore himself in order to pitch his idea to bring power to the entire Underground. If it was approved, he would get the funding he needed, and he would be able to begin construction immediately. He couldn’t help but bounce on his feet while he anxiously waited.

Finally, a young fish monster poked her head out.

“It’s your time to shine,  _ nerd,”  _ she said, her grin more resembling a snarl than anything else, “But don’t take  _ too  _ long, I’ve got some training to do!!”

He had expected the king to have more polite service, but he wasn’t one to voice his judgement out loud.

He quickly rushed into the home where Asgore was waiting, not bothering to smile as the fish girl stared. 

 

He looked around the building, feeling a strange sense of melancholy. It seemed… Empty. Like all of its color and life had been drained out of it long ago. It almost reminded him of New Home, with its dullness and suffocating gray hues. The only proof that anyone even lived there was the occasional potted plants, all of which were very well taken care of. He had heard that the king had a knack for gardening, so he guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Ah, hello there!” A deep voice greeted, startling him out of his observations as he whirled around. “You must be Papyrus Gaster, correct?”

The name made him grind his teeth together for a second.

“Please, just call me WingDings,” he corrected, trying to play off his discomfort. “No one really calls me by my first name.”

No one called him  _ WingDings,  _ either, but he figured that was better than insisting for the king to call him Dr. Gaster instead, even though that was what he made everyone else call him. He didn’t have a doctorate yet, but once the CORE was finished, he’d practically have one handed to him on a silver platter. They’d respect him so much, they would brag about how he went to their university, even though he had only attended a few community college classes at most. Most prestigious schools were just too expensive, but the concept of community college had always been humiliating. Perhaps he could get them to give him some of their funds in exchange for his support.

“Ah, alrighty then, WingDings!” The king continued, snapping Dings back to reality. “I was told you had an idea that could greatly improve the Underground?”

He swallowed. Why was he so  _ nervous  _ all of a sudden? He  _ knew  _ this would be revolutionary, and he had been working on the concept for nearly three years straight. Simply getting it approved should be  _ easy. _

“Y-yes, um,” he stammered, flipping through the large notebook he had brought along. It was filled with notes, sketches, and formulas, but somehow he’d never thought to write a  _ script  _ for his pitch. “I-it will make things more accessible to monsters, and may even, ah, help us catch some humans in the process…”

He trailed off as he looked at King Asgore, whose kind smile had dropped. He stared at his feet, feeling his face heat up. He was making a complete fool of himself. He should have been more prepared. He had disappointed the  _ king,  _ and he was  _ known  _ for being easy to please!

“You seem tense,” the boss monster pointed out. “You don’t need to worry about being so formal. How about we discuss your idea over a hot cup of tea?”

He nodded hesitantly. Perhaps he  _ was  _ being too professional. He let himself breathe again as Asgore led him to the table to sit down.

Maybe, if he just let himself off the hook, it would be just as easy as he thought it would be.

 

* * *

 

Asgore  _ loved  _ the idea.

 

He loved it so much, in fact, that he gave Dings the position of the Royal Scientist almost on the spot. 

He loved the concept, the design, the benefits,  _ everything,  _ and Dings couldn’t have been more excited. He had also been granted permission and funds to begin construction as soon as possible, so now it was only a matter of finding workers to hire and help him out.

He was a  _ scientist.  _ An actual,  _ real  _ scientist. People  _ had  _ to call him Dr. Gaster  _ now. _

 

He grinned all the way back to the small apartment he shared with his brother. Money had grown tight since he was younger, and he didn’t even have a shed for all of his work anymore, so he’d had to resort to storing everything in his own bedroom over the years. It was a mess, but a mess he could live with.

Except now, he didn’t  _ have  _ to live with it for much longer. He’d find some place to build a true laboratory, somewhere to store all of his work and  _ more.  _ He’d be so popular, people would be lining up just for a five-minute tour of the most basic sections. Maybe he’d set up a gift shop, too.

 

As he unlocked the door to the apartment, he was hit with the realization that he’d  _ hated  _ it so much more than he already thought he did. It was cramped, dirty, had mold on the walls, used dishes piled up in several different rooms, the smell of mildew, and a worn out old couch that had the springs poking out under every place he tried to sit. It was disgusting.

His brother was there, too, taking a nap right on the old couch. How he ever managed to fall asleep on the thing, Dings had no idea.

 

Nonetheless, he clapped his hands together a few times, loud enough to startle the other into consciousness.

 

“Ugh, what the hell, dude?” Sans grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Is it  _ that  _ hard to just let me get some sleep?”

“There’s no time for lazing about, Sans!” Dings exclaimed. “Especially not in the presence of the official Royal Scientist!!!”

“The official what now?” Sans questioned, squinting his eyes. “And why are you saying that like it’s a really important thing?”

“The official  _ Royal Scientist!!”  _ Dings repeated, slightly annoyed that his brother didn’t realize that he now lived with a member of the king’s court. “And I’m saying it like that because it  _ is  _ really important!! The position was given to me by the king himself!!!”

“Oh right, you went to show him your…  _ thing.  _ Are you ever gonna tell me what that was?”

“I’ve told you a million times, you’ll  _ see  _ when it’s  _ built!” _

“Yeah, okay. Can I go back to sleep, now?”

_ “No!!”  _ Dings growled, annoyance steadily rising in his chest. “You need to help me clean this disgusting apartment up, because we’re moving!”

“Moving?” His brother mimicked, “Are you serious? Right now?”

_ “Dead  _ serious, this place is horrible,” he answered as he picked Sans up by the back of his shirt. “Now let’s start packing before all this filth spreads to my inventions!”

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, the apartment was good as new!

 

Sans, not so much.

 

“So you mean to tell me,” he glowered, “that we just packed up _ all  _ of our stuff, including our  _ beds,  _ and we don’t even have a place to go yet? Is that right?”

“Well, ah, when you put it  _ that  _ way--” Dings stammered, avoiding eye contact.

“Dings,  _ what the hell?”  _ Sans growled, cutting him off. “Where do you expect me to sleep tonight? The  _ floor?” _

“Now, there’s no need to get angry, we could--”

“We could  _ what,  _ Dings? Get a hotel room with the money that we use to pay rent? Sleep on the  _ boxes?” _

“Hey, the mattresses aren’t packed up! You can still sleep on one of those!” Dings finally spoke up, sick of being scolded. “In fact, it’s getting pretty late. If you go to sleep right now, I’ll have a good place for us to go by morning! I promise!”

Sans looked like he wanted to yell some more, but he kept his jaw shut as he glared. He walked over to the mattresses that were leaning against the wall and stiffly knocked one over onto the ground. When it landed, a small cloud of dust puffed out.

“You better be quick, or  _ you’re  _ gonna be the only one putting everything back.”

Dings said nothing as his brother pulled a blanket out of one of the many boxes surrounding him and laid down with it, neglecting to even get a pillow. Sighing, he walked out of the apartment.

 

Sans would understand soon. Once he started getting a real paycheck, things would change. 

But how was he going to find a new place to stay by morning?

  
  
Then, he had one of his common brilliant ideas, the kind of idea that happened so regularly that he certainly didn’t feel anxious about it at all.

 

King Asgore had told him to stop by if he needed anything.

Without thinking, he made his way to the castle.

Taking a deep breath as he arrived, he knocked.

 

“Um, h-hello, sir,” he stammered, wincing as he realized he didn’t even give the other a chance to speak after he opened the door.

“WingDings? It is late, don’t you think? Do you need something?” Asgore asked, a hint of concern in his voice. It only made Dings grind his teeth together slightly harder.

“Y-yes, sir, actually,” he stuttered, “I, um, was wondering if I could...borrow… some money? I need to... advertise positions for construction. For the CORE. And it is rather… expensive.”

“Oh, of course! I suppose I should have given you some gold to start you off, anyway,” the king assured. “How much do you think you will need?”

Dings struggled to think of a number. How much did bigger houses cost in New Home?

“...200,000.”

There was a moment of silence. Dings began to fear that the king was catching on, but thankfully, he was proven wrong.

“Goodness, that is… quite a lot,” Asgore hesitated, “But… I suppose it would not harm me very much. How soon do you need it?”

“Tonight,” Dings answered, far too quickly. “I-I mean, any time is alright, but I would strongly prefer to have it tonight. The sooner I can get the word out, the better.”

“...Alright, I will get it to you very soon.”

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate this, um, v-very much,” he fretted, nearly letting his facade slip. “I won’t let you down.”

Asgore offered him a cup of tea, but he insisted he had places to be. After saying their goodbyes, Dings finally let himself breathe. That had been…  _ quite  _ nerve wracking, to say the least.

 

As he walked away, the reality of what he had just done hit him like a tidal wave.

 

He had just lied to the  _ king. _

He was borrowing the king’s money in order to buy a  _ house. _

And he was getting  _ away with it,  _ too.

He didn’t know whether to grin, panic, or do both at the same time.

 

So instead, he just settled on looking around New Home for a big house. If he had gold left over afterwards, he’d use it for advertising, of course.

 

_...Probably, _ anyway. It was a  _ lot,  _ after all.

 


End file.
